


Have You Kissed Your Geneticist Today?

by ihavealotofwords



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Architect!Erik, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Geneticist!Charles, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Magnetic Bags, Modern AU, Odd Bags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihavealotofwords/pseuds/ihavealotofwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik doesn't usually take notice of strangers, even if they have weird magnetic bags and wear shirts with dorky math jokes on them and have soft hair and beautiful eyes and red lips-</p>
<p>This man was an (obvious) exception. Erik finds that he doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have You Kissed Your Geneticist Today?

The first time Erik noticed him, it was because of the bag.

Erik had really not wanted to go back into work that afternoon. It was Saturday. He was meant to be at home, welding or drinking beer or sitting on the couch or anything that wasn’t going back into work on his day off. He spent his whole week looking and planning designs for his customers, was it too much to ask for one weekend off? He just wanted to go at least twenty-four hours without looking at a building design, or listening to Shaw’s smug voice as he added new features to the design he had commissioned.

Erik owned Magneto Building, a small architect company. He didn’t get an overload of customers, but he made enough for himself and Angel, his secretary. The last few months, however, had been lacking. Really, Shaw had been the only business Erik had gotten since September.

Hence him actually going back in to work on the weekend instead of tell Shaw to fuck off. He needed this job, and every change Shaw made to the design was just more money in Erik’s pocket, no matter how smug Shaw looked as Erik did his bidding.

Erik thumped his head against the door of the subway car he was in, earning him several suspicious looks from the teen girls behind him, no doubt on their way to do something fun and relaxing and not work with Shaw breathing down their necks.

No, Erik wasn’t jealous of some teenaged girls on the subway, thank you very much.

The train stopped, doors opening to let people off. The girls threw Erik the look of utter contempt and distain that only teenagers were capable of and stepped off the train, skirting around him like he had the plague. Erik thumped his head against the door again as soon as it slid shut.

Deciding brain injury would only make an afternoon with Shaw even more unbearable, Erik leaned back, stepping away from the door and temptation. He caught sight of something bright out of the corner of his eye and turned.

The first thing he noticed was the bag. It was large, overly large for the shoulder it was hanging off of. It was crooked, with a homemade air about it. On the side was a large, dark square. Stuck to it… were those refrigerator magnets? They spelled out ‘Mutations Are Groovy’. Erik blinked.

The hell did that mean?

He looked up at the owner of the bag. He was short, though he only looked to be a few years younger than Erik. His brown hair was floppy, hanging in his face messily. He was looking out the window, bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously. He stumbled as the train pulled to a stop, bag shifting out of the way to show Erik that its owner was wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt with a graphic on it for… Erik squinted. Some brand of tea, maybe?

The doors slid open, and the man stepped off. He glanced over, showing Erik bright red lips and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Erik unconsciously leaned forward to watch him go. He looked around, seeming lost, before he perked up. A younger guy waved him over. The train pulled away before Erik could see any more. He craned his neck in frustration.

He snapped back to his senses. What was he doing? Ogling some stranger on the train? Some attractive stranger with weird taste in bags.

Erik sighed heavily. He really needed a weekend to himself.

~~~~~

A few weeks later found Erik standing on the same subway car, cursing his life. He stood, arms crossed, glaring at the door. He hated Shaw; that man was a blight on the earth. Erik had no clue what Shaw could possibly want this time.

Erik was imagining how it would feel to finally just tell Shaw to take a hike when he caught sight of a familiar, bright bag swinging against a thin shoulder while the floppy-haired man from earlier entered the car. He took a seat behind Erik. Erik watched his reflection in the glass window as the train began to move. He was digging through his bag eagerly.

Erik’s view of the man- or rather his reflection- was cut off as an elderly woman shuffled by, searching for a seat. The man stood quickly.

“You can sit here,” he said. Erik raised an eyebrow. The man’s accent was decidedly British. The woman thanked him loudly, sitting down with a relieved sigh. The man stepped out of her way, almost bumping into Erik. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he apologized, coming to stand next to Erik. Erik nodded distractedly.

He managed to keep his eyes forward for a few minutes before they were drawn to the man standing next to him. Instead of refrigerator magnets, his bag had what looked like a bumper sticker, or magnet, on it. It read ‘Have You Kissed Your Geneticist Today?’ in bold letters. Erik puzzled over that for a while until the man shifted his bag to his other shoulder. He was wearing a black shirt with a graphic on the front. It had two math symbols on it, both saying something to the other.

“It’s a math joke,” the man said, and Erik realized he had been staring. The man turned to him, displaying his shirt. “You know, pi is an irrational number, and the square root of -1 is an imaginary number,” he pointed to each, “so pi is telling the square root of -1 to be real, and is being told to be rational in return.” The man flushed, making Erik’s eyes trace the red path from his cheek down his neck. “Sorry, you just looked like you weren’t quite getting it. I’m more of a science person, but I still thought it was funny.”

“No, it’s fine,” Erik said, tearing his eyes away from the man’s pale neck to look at him. “I didn’t get it,” he admitted.

The man broke into a wide smile.

“I’m Charles,” he said, holding out his hand. He fell against Erik a little as the train pulled to a stop. Erik grabbed his elbow to steady him, and took his hand for a firm handshake.

“Erik,” he said. Charles brightened.

“Do you take this train a lot?” he asked conversationally. Erik shook his head.

“Not usually on weekends. I had to run into work to take care of some things.”

The doors slid shut and the train started again. Charles smiled up at Erik.

“I usually don’t either. I’m meeting my friend Hank at 5th street. We’re going to a genetics conference.”

Erik felt his brow rise.

“Wasn’t that the stop at the 5th street station?” he asked. Charles’ eyes grew wide.

“Oh, I suppose it was. I didn’t even notice,” he laughed a little. “I can get off at the next stop and call my friend. Somehow,” he dug through his bag. “It seems I forgot my phone this morning,” he said with a self-depreciating chuckle. Erik sighed.

“The next stop is mine. You can come to my office and borrow the phone,” he heard himself offering. He blinked. He was Erik Lehnsherr; he didn’t offer to do nice things for other people.

“Oh really? Thank you so much, my friend,” Charles said, brightening immediately.

Apparently Erik offered to do nice things for people with bright blue eyes and unbearably British accents who smiled at him. Erik barely resisted face-palming. He hoped the interns that worked in the office suite under his never found out.

The train pulled to a stop, and Charles followed Erik out to the platform. He gripped Erik’s sleeve tightly to counter the onrush of passengers onto the train. They stepped out onto the sidewalk, blinking in the late morning sun.

“It’s a few blocks this way,” Erik grunted, leading Charles down the street.

“What do you do? If you don’t mind me asking,” Charles said, bag bumping against his side as he hurried to keep up with Erik’s long legs. Erik slowed down slightly for him.

“I’m an architect.”

“Brilliant,” Charles said. He was grinning at Erik like he really believed it, like the idea that Erik was an architect was the greatest notion in the world. It made Erik a little dizzy.

“I own my own company,” Erik offered. He wouldn’t admit that he wanted to see that smile again.

Charles didn’t disappoint.

“Really? That’s fantastic,” he breathed. Erik felt a little swell of pride.

They approached his office building. Charles looked up at it eagerly. Erik didn’t know whether to be touched or concern about Charles’ apparent interest in a stranger he had just met; and Erik had to admit that he was rather intimidating, scary even.

Erik held the door open for Charles, who flashed him a thankful smile. They made their way to the elevator. Charles read the directory next to it while they waited for it to arrive.

“I suppose you are on the third floor?” Charles asked, pointing to the engraving that read ‘Magneto Building’ in white letters. Erik nodded.

The ride in the elevator was quiet. Charles bounced on the balls of his feet, gripping the handle of his bag tightly, all excited energy. He bounded out of the elevator, looking around. Erik made his way through the front lobby and to his personal office. Charles followed, peering over his shoulder as Erik pushed several half-finished designs around his desk, searching for the phone. Charles picked some of the designs up.

“I don’t know much about architecture,” Charles said, biting his lip, “but I think these are really good.”

Erik looked up, noting that Charles had picked up his own personal designs. He tapped the paper.

“This was really just practice,” he explained. Charles gave him a questioning look. “Ok, I’ve always wanted to build a museum like this,” he admitted, tracing the pencil lines carefully. “It was an idea my mother gave me.” Erik handed Charles the phone. “Here. Just dial 3 before the number.”

Charles passed the paper to Erik, taking the phone. As he was dialing, Erik studied the design. He had forgotten he had drawn it- recently, that is. He had drawn and redrawn the very same building many times throughout the years, tweaking and adapting it with the more he learned.

“No, Hank, I’m fine. I promise. I just missed my stop.”

Charles’ voice brought Erik out of his musings. His face was fond as he shook his head. “No, I forgot my phone this morning. Oh? I’m borrowing someone’s. Yes. Here, the address is,” Charles looked at Erik, who rattled off the office’s address. Charles smiled in thanks, relaying the information to the person on the other line. “Alright, I’ll see you in a little while. Don’t forget, it’s the third floor.”

Charles hung up, shaking his head fondly. “My friend Hank is such a worrywart,” he said with a smile. From anyone else, it would have been a complaint, but Charles made it sound like a warm compliment. “He’ll be here in about half an hour to pick me up.” He picked up the building design again. “You said this is a museum?”

Erik nodded. “My mother was the one who got me interested in architecture. She started an organization to raise funds to make this museum.” He tapped the top of the paper, which read ‘Museum of German Heritage.’ Charles looked at him curiously.

At the look in those striking blue eyes, Erik found himself talking. He talked about his mother, how she had raised him alone after his father passed away. He told Charles about the stories his mother used to tell him of Germany, where she had grown up, and about his great-grandparents, who had been in Germany during World War II when they had been captured along with other Jews. He explained how his mother had given him the dream of having a hand in creating the museum, but how she had died of illness before it could be done.

He shared things with Charles that he had never told anyone.

He talked until a knock sounded on the door. “Charles?” A young man stuck his head in the door, shuffling nervously. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Charles sitting there. Charles smiled at him over his shoulder.

“I’ll be right out, Hank.”

Hank looked like he wanted to protest, but Charles just smiled until he nodded. “Alright,” he said, eyes flicking over to Erik before he left. Charles turned back to Erik.

“Thank you for sharing with me, my friend,” he said, leaning forward to look Erik in the eye earnestly. “And thank you, of course, for helping out. I enjoyed meeting you,” he said sincerely. Erik nodded.

“And I you,” he said. Charles beamed.

“Here, may I see your phone?” he held out his hand. Erik handed his cell over without hesitation. Charles typed a bit before handing the phone back to Erik. “There. I texted myself. I’ll be able to get your number from it.”

He stood, holding his hand out. Erik took it, marveling at the smoothness of his skin. Erik wondered if it was just his imagination that Charles’ hand lingered in his, almost in a caress. Charles gave him one last smile before bounding out. From his desk, Erik could see Charles chatting with his friend as they stepped onto the elevator. Erik leaned back in his chair, feeling winded. Or charmed beyond belief.

That night, Erik received a text.

_Hello my friend. This is Charles. We met today?_

Erik typed an answer.

_Yes, I remember._

How could he forget?

~~~~~

“Angel? Where’s the protractor?” Erik yelled, glaring out of his office door.

“It’s right where you left it yesterday!” was yelled right back.

Erik pinched his nose with a sigh.

“Which would be…?”

A loud sigh could be heard.

“On top of your file cabinet, under the manila folder.”

Erik looked, and found it right where Angel said it would be. He grabbed it.

“Thank you,” he called. Angel appeared in the doorway, leaning against the wall. Her long black hair was perfectly straight (a feat that Erik knew took her over an hour to achieve), and she was wearing jeans and a tight tank top. Erik never required her to dress up unless they had a new client coming in, and even then he only had limited success.

“What’s up? Why are you so pissy today?” Angel asked. Erik looked up from the papers he was reading to glare at her. She just stared back at him, no longer affected by his expressions. Erik sighed.

“Shaw’s coming today. He wanted this design completed before he got here. I had it finished last night, but he e-mailed with some changes this morning,” he explained. Angel scowled.

“Why don’t you tell him to fuck off like usual?”

“I don’t tell clients to fuck off,” Erik protested. Angel’s brow rose. “Ok, I did that one, but he… never mind,” he said, going back to the paper on his desk. He had broken the nose of a previous client of his, William Stryker, because he had made a comment about ‘buying’ Angel. He apparently had known Angel before she came to work for Erik, when she worked as a stripper at a low end club. After breaking his nose, Erik had told him to leave, and hadn’t seen him since.

Angel pushed off the doorway, walking over to sit on Erik’s desk. He growled, tugging on the papers she was sitting on.

“I know exactly what he did,” Angel said, pointedly leaning back to sit on the papers. “My hero, protecting my honor,” she purred. Erik rolled his eyes.

“No, Angel,” he said, successfully pulling the paper out from under her. He pushed his chair back. The elevator dinged, and Erik pointed out the door. “Work,” he demanded. Angel huffed.

“Fine,” she said, hopping off of the desk. She went to the front office to greet whoever stepped off the elevator. Erik shook his head, focusing on the report Shaw had sent him. Flirting came naturally to Angel, but she wasn’t his type. He liked lighter hair, blue eyes, bright smiles, and British accen-

Erik shook his head. After a week of nonstop texts from Charles, he found it hard to think of anyone else. It was pathetic- he had only met Charles once, and didn’t even know anything about him! He shouldn’t have already been able to take over Erik’s every thought.

Erik was adjusting measurements on Shaw’s design when Angel knocked on the door. She had a terrifying smirk on her face.

“You have a visitor,” she said. “He’s damn cute, too,” she added quietly. Erik frowned.

“Let him in.”

Charles appeared over her shoulder. He grinned at Erik.

“Hello!”

Erik stood, walking around his desk.

“Charles? What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Erik added quickly.

“I just thought I’d drop by and see what you are up to,” Charles said, coming to stand in front of Erik. He didn’t have his magnetic bag with him. He was wearing jeans and a dark blue t-shirt that read ‘Some Telepaths Marry Metalbenders’ in white letters. Erik would have to try and puzzle what that meant later; Charles was looking up at him expectantly.

“Shaw’s coming later today to check on his design,” Erik explained. Charles’ face fell a bit.

“Oh… I thought you’d be finished by now. I wanted to see if you wanted to go get something to eat with me, but it you’re busy... I shouldn’t have assumed… I should have called first.”

Erik glanced at the clock, and frowned.

“Is it really already four?” he asked. Charles nodded with a small chuckle. Erik rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t watching the clock.” Erik walked over to the doorway. “Angel? Has Shaw called?”

“Nope,” Angel said, popping the ‘p’ loudly.

“Alright, you can take off,” Erik said. “You were supposed to get off at three. You should have said something.”

Angel shrugged. “You didn’t look like you planned on stopping soon. What are you going to do about Shaw?”

Erik glanced back at Charles. “He will just have to wait until another day. I’ve got plans,” he said. Charles smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a post I saw on tumblr a long time ago about a bag you could stick magnets to and how it would catch Erik's eye. I lost the post, but remembered the content.


End file.
